Flowers in the Forest

Thank you for the pleasing comments on the blossom post; since I take quite a lot of photos of the hedgerows I'm happy to share some of them on a regular basis.

I'm going to restrict myself mostly to wild flowers and plants, because I feel that they deserve more attention; gardens are looked after, tended, and shown off; the plants in the fields and hedgerows have to fight their own battles against other plants, pesticides, poor soil, intermittent rain, and clumsy-footed bloggers armed with a camera and a bicycle. I have a soft spot for beauty in the wild.

The flat fenland and Humber plains produce different plants to the rolling Wiltshire hills. Perhaps there is less shelter from bitter winds, but I do not find so many species thriving in the North. Or maybe they'll come out later, and I can enjoy a glorious summer.



A few spring poppies were fluttering gaily in the wind as I cycled past, so I stopped for a while. Only one of them was strong enough to hold still against the wind for long enough to not look blurred in the final photos, but as it was the first one I photographed I think I picked it out of the dozen or so in the field for a special reason. An omen, perhaps, telling me to trust what my heart picks upon.



Near to the small patch of poppies was a clump of low-growing plants that I do not recognise.



I haven't seen this type of blossom in Wiltshire, but the field hedges were full of it.



And I'm guessing this is a celandine, but do feel free to put me in the know.



A couple of miles further on I found purple and white bell-shaped flowers growing in the grass beside the road, but the wind was driving them into a wild frenzy and I couldn't get anything other than blurred shots. Nearby was a smaller plant that had the sense to hide from the wind.



And this has to be an escapee from a garden, but since it is growing untended I acknowledge it has a right to be in my collection. You'll see I wasn't the only one attracted by the colour.



The woods themselves are a mixture of firs and beeches, and are almost devoid of anything other than these.

And so on to the mystery:



At a crossroads of muddy tracks I came upon this strange scene.



There was a little heap of fircones beside one of the pots, and the tree is a beech tree with no conifers of any type near to it. A message? I have passed this spot many times in the past few weeks and this is the first time I have noticed anything unusual.

So what's the story here? I searched the bark on the tree for 'XX loves YY' carvings, but if this is a chromosomic shrine they preferred to remain anonymous. Is it in memory of a love? Or a death? Is a favourite pet buried nearby beneath the cool silent trees, where it loved to play and frolic?

Or is this where a child was conceived? I could bother to find out, but I have learned that truth is sometimes a destroying revelation. I shall let this memory remain a mystery.

I like the idea of adding music to these posts to try and share my mood with you, so here's something that seems to fit in with my feelings on this episode.

Kitchenfloorough


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